A Breath Away
by Billyette-Bobilina-Josephine
Summary: An IkeXSoren fic. Yaoi, Boy-boy love, whatever you want to call it. If you don't like it, don't read it. Also GeoffreyXElincia and some other main pairings. M for safety. See inside for details.
1. One: Genes

I don't own Fire Emblem and all that jazz. This is a SorenXIke story. If you don't like it, don't read it. M for safety. Spoilers for those who haven't finished Radiant Dawn. Takes place several years after Ike left Tellius. Minor changes to the original storyline, but it's mostly the same. Also, a lot of this is fluff, but there is an actual plot to it, despite what you may think!

A Breath Away

One: Genes

Sometimes, you come very close to things, good or bad. You're just a breath away form it. From love, from life, from hate, from death. I know what all of that's like. I've been close to all of those things. Then I've been rejected.

I was close to love. When I first met him, when I first saw him, when I first knew that I was safe with him. He had that look. My heart told me to listen to him, to trust him. But my head told me otherwise. And I was a fool when I ignored my heart that day. I turned down a chance to love.

I was close to life. When she called out to me, when she talked to me. I should have recognized that look in her eyes. The look that gave it all away. I should have seen myself in her. Known of our connection. But I was blind to a life of safety and prosperity that I could have had.

I was close to hate. When I met that uncivilized brute, when he ignored everything I said, when he treated me as though I didn't exist. My soul screamed at him. My heart filled with rage and hurt. Only my head could keep me calm around him. It stopped me from lashing out in anger.

I was close to death. So many times have I received an arrow in my breast. So many times has a sword slit me and left me to bleed. So many timed have I been set alight, electrocuted, stabbed, cut. So many times have I only made it through sheer force of will. Through him.

Every time I've come close to something, I've been pulled away for whatever reason. But I'm not going to stand for it any longer. I've lost a lover. I've lost a family. I've lost a rival. I've lost blood.

But now I've got one of those things back. And I'm not losing my chance this time. I'm not letting it go. I'm never letting him go.

"Hey, Soren!"

I'm jolted out of my thoughts and I look over my shoulder. I smile softly. "Hi, Ike."

His handsome face is solemn. He's wearing a slight frown. "Don't you think you've been cooped up in this library for a bit too long?" he asks me. His voice is overflowing with disappointment. I can tell that he's upset I'm not spending more time with him.

I find myself also frowning. "I need to study, Ike, no matter what you may think. It's important for me to keep my knowledge up-to-date. You never know when I might need it."

"Still," he says, "I think you need at least a little fresh air once in a while. Air is good for you. Exercise. You need to keep your body healthy."

I can tell where this is going. We've had this argument hundreds of times before this. "For the last time, Ike," I say with a sigh, "I am not going to spar with you."

He opens his mouth, as if to speak, then closes it again. Eventually he complains, "Why not? Why do you get to spend countless hours in this library but I don't get to spend a minute sparring with you?"

I turn away from him, looking at my book, so he doesn't see me rolling my eyes. "Because, Ike, I'm not the right build. I can't compete with you, physically."

This is true. Almost everything about Ike is big. He's over a head taller then me. And I'm guessing that he wouldn't even be able to fit in a bathtub for two, because he's too broad. His legs and arms are longer than mine, and his feet and hands and everything, except for his face. His trusting eyes aren't in proportion to the rest of his body. His nose is long but thin, and his lips are practically nonexistent—lovely, but nonexistent. Just a thin line on his face.

Our thin lips are about the only thing we have in common physically. Everywhere he's big, I'm small. I'm short and slight of frame. You could cram me into a bathtub made for a child, I'd wager. Two of my hands could fit under one of his. I'd have to jump with both feet if I wanted to stamp on his foot. My critical red eyes—red being the opposite color of blue--are a lot wider than his are. Also, my nose is short, but wide.

We're different on the inside, too. My head rules my body. His heart rules his. He's the most trusting, loving, accepted person I've ever known. And I . . . I prefer to keep my distance. My trust has been abused before. My love has been abused before. And I'm far from being accepted.

Ike is brilliant—maybe he's not as . . . scheming . . . as I am, but he knows how to work with people. I wish I could do that. He knows how to talk to people who need to listen. He knows how to listen when people need to talk. He knows how to love when someone needs to be loved. He's brilliant at what he does. And I admire that. Everyone does.

I wish I could be like Ike. I wish I were a little more knowledgeable in that area. I wish I knew how to relate to people. I wish I were admired, by anybody, let alone everybody.

I wish a lot of things. But none of them come true.

Back to Ike.

He's smirking a little now. "That may be so," he answers slowly, "but it doesn't mean you can't change that."

My mind flashes with the mental image of me, being as tall and strong and broad as Ike is. I can't help but give a quiet laugh. "I don't think that's exactly going to happen, Ike. I don't have the right genes for it."

He stares blankly at me, uncomprehending. I sigh quietly. Sometimes, Ike could be frustrating to talk to. "Genes," I explain patiently, "are what makes me, me. And what makes you, you. For example, you have Greil's genes. They were passed down to you. It's what makes you have a strong body."

His thick eyebrows come together. He's still confused, but he tries to shrug it off. "Whatever."

I close my book. It's hardly a distraction, but it's pointless. So I close it. "Okay, let me try another example. Lucia and Geoffrey. They both have light blue hair, right?" He nods. I continue, "And what makes them both have light blue hair?"

"They're . . . family," he answers. I'm sure he's confused as to how it's relevant.

"Yes. They're family. So they have the same genes. Those genes make them have the same light blue hair."

He finally understands. He nods enthusiastically. "Yeah, that makes sense. So, genes made me strong like my dad, right?"

"Yes. That's how it works."

"Only, you don't know who your family is."

My voice is flat as a respond, "No. I don't. I don't know what genes I have."

He can't contain a grin of mischief. "So, you don't know if your father had strong genes that he passed down to you."

I look down and feel blood rush to my cheeks. I walked right into trap I'd set myself. "Yeah," I mumbled in response. "I don't know."

In all honesty, I do. I know who my parents are—I figured it out in my head. I'm just not comfortable with telling Ike. Not yet. And besides, if he knew, he'd make me spar until I collapsed on the ground in exhaustion. I could never handle facing off against someone with his skill, his strength, his _anything_. He's just so . . . overpowering.

Suddenly I find myself being swept out of my chair. I'm in his strong arms, but I can't help but be terrified by his unexpected actions. I wrap my arms around his neck and stare into his eyes for comfort.

And comfort they give me. I can see in them, his entire heart, all of his thoughts, saying, _I love you. I will never let you go. You are safe with me_.

And I know I am.


	2. Two: Sparring

MistressofIke: Thanks! Though Ike has a few downsides, I'm trying to capture the best parts of him. Although sometimes, those bad parts will shine through. Hopefully I can keep up to your standards with the next few chapters.

randompersons: Yeah, I know. She's a bit immature at times. And it wasn't just that debate. I just think the pairing makes sense, is all. For reasons I've already mentioned to you numerous times.

I feel that Soren is perhaps a little too angsty in this chapter, but I'll let you use your own judgement. I hope everyone reading this out there enjoys this. But, then again, if you don't, my only advise to you is . . . stop reading!

I don't own Fire Emblem and all that jazz. This is a SorenXIke story. If you don't like it, don't read it. M for safety. Spoilers for those who haven't finished Radiant Dawn. Takes place several years after Ike left Tellius. Minor changes to the original storyline, but it's mostly the same. Also, a lot of this is fluff, but there is an actual plot to it, despite what you may think! Also, we were experiencing minor technical difficulties with the last chapter, but I fixed it.

A Breath Away

Two: Sparring

He goes and carries me all the way outside, all the way through town, all the way until were in a clearing near the forest. The entire time my face in buried in his neck, and I don't talk. People stare at us, and I hate it. It makes me feel like more of a freak then I already am.

He keeps saying comforting things. He knows I hate attention. But I can't hear him speak. All I can hear is a voice in my head whispering dark thoughts. _Why are you even with him? All he does is bad things that he knows you hate. A real lover would never dream of hurting you emotionally the way he does. He does everything he wants, because he knows you're not strong enough to stop him._

I think I might have cried a little. _Weakling. Emotional fool._ Doesn't Ike understand me? Doesn't he understand me needs and fears by now_? He should, shouldn't he? That part of love. Protecting your lover. Nourishing your lover._ But somehow, I feel he's just not quite there yet. _But Ike made such a huge commitment when he left Tellius with you. He should have been there months, if not years ago._

I shake my head. He whispers something, but I don't hear him. Then he put me down on the ground. I don't let go of him. I'm not confident enough to. _Coward_. He keeps talking, murmuring things in my ear. Eventually, something gets through.

". . . sex with you all night. I promise, Soren. So long as you do this for me. No one's here. We're all alone. If there was anyone here, I wouldn't have put you down. You can trust me."

I move away from him a little. I stare into his emotional blue eyes. He looks so unsure. _Like he can't decide if he should hate you or pity you_. I have trouble finding my voice. But eventually I manage to say, "Sex all night?"

He smiles a little. "Yeah. I promise. Deal?"

I glance around. There's no one else around. I move my hands from his neck down to his chest, which is about head level for me. I look up at him. His stupid grin makes me smile a little, too. I whisper, "That . . . sounds good."

He leans down and kisses me on the lips. His are kind of chapped and dry and his kisses are a little rough. It's so amazing. It's not a very passionate kiss, but it takes me to the height of ecstasy. _Emotional fool._ My eyes are closed even when he pulls away from me.

His giant hands push some of my hair back. I melt into his touch as he chuckles, "You get way too deep into the whole kissing thing."

Was I kissing him wrong? _Goddess, of course you were. You do everything wrong. You're not supposed to even exist, idiot, let alone be good at anything_. "I . . . I . . . what?" _Great job, freak. You can't even talk right._

He's expression is so warm. And loving. And caring. And selfless. He says softly, "You were, like, giggling. Like Mist does sometimes when she talks to Boyd. It was silly."

_Emotional fool. Coward. Weakling. Just give in to all your silly whims, why don't you? Just be a great idiot in front of the bravest, most beautiful, most selfless man to ever live, why don't you?_ I'm chewing on my lower lip, trying not to cry. _Emotional fool. Coward Weakling._ "Okay . . . ."

"No!" he interjects quickly. "No, Soren, don't be upset. It's not a bad thing. I just thought it was . . . cute."

"Okay . . . ."

He shrugs. "Doesn't matter. Wasn't important."

"Okay . . . ."

He frowns, then turns and seems distracted by something. I don't care. All I care about right now is that I acted like a complete fool in front of Ike. Ike, of all people, the person whose opinion matters the most to me, thinks I'm a total idiot. _Because you are, coward._

Suddenly, I have this great wooden branch at my chest. Puzzled, I take it from him. It's long and thick and heavy. I have to hold it with both hands. "What's this for?" I ask tiredly. I'm worn out. I have no patience for his games right now.

He looks at me like I'm stupid, which he must assume I am. "For sparring. Contact sparring. First one to get twenty hits on the other person wins. Ready?" He crouches a little.

Sparring? With Ike? He's going to kill me! "No, I'm not ready. I'm not going to be ready. This is pointless." _Weakling. Coward_. I turn to walk away. _Run and hide, freak. Run and hide like you always do. _

He straightens up a little. "What? But Soren, we made a deal."

I hesitate. I turn to him angrily. "Yeah, we did make a deal. We have sex. That was the deal. You promised."

He was shaking his head. "Soren, I didn't say that we'd just have sex. I said we'd spar for half an hour, and in return, we can have sex all night. Weren't you listening?"

No. No, I wasn't. That's the truth. But how could I tell him that? "Yes. Of course I was listening. I just . . . ." _Liar. You think lies can save you from losing what you should never have had? You think lies can support your relationship with a hero like him?_

"If you didn't like it, why did you agree?"

_Because you're a liar._ "I . . ." _Hopeless to argue, weakling._ I know. _Then why are you? So what if you fall on your ass a few times? Stop being so selfish._ I'm not selfish. _Hopeless to argue, weakling. _My voice is pitiable with indecision. "I . . . agree."

He stares at me for a while, like he can't believe I've finally agreed to spar with him. Then he shrugs and nods, and informs me, "I'll go easy on you. Okay?"

But I'm so weak. My muscles aren't used to working. I can hardly lift the branch with both hands, but somehow I manage.

He has a branch of his own. He stares at me. He gestures towards his muscular chest and says, "Come at me, then."

But I can't. I can't imagine myself raising a weapon against his handsome body. Even if I know I'm not strong enough to hurt him, I just can't. _Coward. Emotional fool._

"If you don't attack me, I'm going to have to attack you."

All I can do is stare at him. He comes in my guard, slowly, and swings, going for my left side with a simple slashing motion.

I don't try and dodge. Instead, I just take his attack.

It hurts. It hurts an insane amount. I scream out helplessly in pain and fall to the ground.

Ike is calling my name. I ignore him, and stand up. He keeps talking. I keep ignoring him. Then, with all my strength, which is not much, I throw the branch at him.

Somehow I hit him square in the chest. He must be a lot closer then I thought. But he staggers back, distracted by my outburst, and I take my chance. I run.

_Run and hide, freak. Run and hide like you always do._ I run as fast as I can, back to town. He shouts for me to come back, but I don't listen. I just run and run and run. Eventually I get to my house. Ike's home. The place he takes me every night and gets me hot and sweaty. The place he feeds me home-cooked meals. The place filled with tension and hate and jealousy.

Tension between myself and my mind. Hate between myself and my mind. And jealousy between me and Ike. Separating us. Separating me from my hero.

Because the hero doesn't live with the freak. The freak dies. That's how the story goes.


	3. Three: Healing Bruises

MistressofIke: Thanks! Usually you don't hear too much from the voice in Soren's head, though. And, yeah, Ike sometimes gets confused because he doesn't understand what Soren's trying to say sometimes. It comes up a lot in the story.

randompersons: If that chapter almost made you cry, you may want to stop reading the story. It's not exactly a cup full of sunshine.

**PLEASE NOTE** Due to my own sheer stupidity, I accidentally deleted over half of my story... DX I think I have most of it saved on another computer, but updates may take a while, so please be patient.

I don't own Fire Emblem and all that jazz. This is a SorenXIke story. If you don't like it, don't read it. M for safety. Spoilers for those who haven't finished Radiant Dawn. Takes place several years after Ike left Tellius. Minor changes to the original storyline, but it's mostly the same. Also, a lot of this is fluff, but there is an actual plot to it, despite what you may think!

A Breath Away

Three: Healing Bruises

I had started a fire. I was sitting in front of it when he came back. Quietly he called out, "Soren?"

"Over here," I informed him. He came over and sighed.

"Soren, could you please stop reading for a second? I'd like to talk to you."

Mutely I close me book and place it on the floor beside me. I can't look at him. It's too much. _Weakling_. So I just stare into the fire.

He sat down beside me and wrapped a strong arm around me. I still didn't look at him as he whispered, "Hey. Don't cry, Soren."

All I can do is gaze into the dancing flames. Am I crying? I don't know. I don't care. Maybe I am. Maybe I'm not. _Emotional fool._ Slowly, his huge hand touches my wet cheek, and wipes away the tears there. He turns my head so I have to look him in the eye.

And I let myself go.

I bury my head in his shoulder and sob. His gives me solace by weaving his massive fingers through my hair, and he scratches my head softly. "It's all right," he coos. "Soren, everything's going to be fine. I love you."

I cry against him until I'm out of tears. When I'm finished, he asks quietly, "What's made you so upset, Soren? Why'd you run off like that?"

"I . . . I'm so sorry, Ike!" I whisper. "I'm sorry. I've ruined everything for you."

"What?" he somehow sounds surprised. "How have you . . . you've done nothing wrong, Soren. What've you got to be sorry for?"

I shake my head. "I'm so . . . so weak, Ike, I'm sorry, I don't want to be . . . ."

He kisses the top of my head gently. "Soren. You're one of the strongest people I know, emotionally. And as for physically, well, we can change that."

I shake my head. "How am I strong?" I murmur. "I'm an emotional fool. I'm a complete coward. I'm selfish. I . . . I'm weak. I can't be strong like you, Ike."

He almost laughs at this. Almost. But instead he says, "I'd hardly call you emotional, and I'd never call you a fool, Soren. Your brain must be twice as big as mine. You're super smart and logical. A lot smarter and more logical then I'll ever be. And you're certainly not a coward. Could you face countless numbers of soldiers, or Ashera, without tons of bravery? I doubt it. As for being selfish . . . everyone is sometimes. Sometimes it's hard to tell the difference between needs and wants. For you, especially, because of everything that's happened to you."

All I do is push up against him a little more.

He adds, "And if you think I'm not emotional . . . if you think I'm strong . . . you've got another thing coming."

I bite on my lower lip. He strokes my head lovingly. On an urge I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him on the cheek. "I love you too, Ike!" I cry out softly. "I love you so much."

He lets me kiss him once more before he turns and kisses me on the lips. He kisses are slightly softer then usual, but this time I can hear myself giggle.

This time, Ike laughs back. Then out kisses become passionate. His tongue forces itself into my mouth and I let him do whatever he wants to me.

His hands trail from my head to my neck, from my neck to my shoulders, from my shoulders to my chest, from my chest to my sides—"Ah! Ow!"

Instantly his hands and tongue and lips left my body. "What did I do?" he asked in panic. "Did I hurt you? What—are you okay?"

My hand went to my left side. I wince. And abruptly he's untying my cloak, undoing my belt, pulling my robes away . . . .

I do nothing except flinch as his hands trace over a large lump on my lower ribcage. His expression is one of pain. His eyes, dark with regret, find mine. In a soft voice he says, "I'm so sorry I did this to you."

I somehow muster the ability to look away from his beautiful blue eyes, and instead look at a large, misshapen bruise that has formed on me. I close my eyes and mumble, "It's not that bad. It only hurts when you touch it."

Without hesitation, his hand withdraws from the brutal mark. "I-I didn't mean to do this . . . I didn't know I'd hit you that hard."

"You're a lot stronger then you think." My voice is nearly hoarse. It sounds horrid.

His hands travel slowly across my chest. I shiver—the tips of his finger were frigid, even with the heat of the immense fire right beside us. He prolongs the foreplay a while, touching and pinching and kissing and licking in all sorts of different places. But before we can get very far, he stops.

He stands up, drawing me into his arms as he does. I cling to his shoulders and kiss him on the underside of the chin. He suppresses laughter—it's the only place he's ticklish, and he loves it when I touch him and kiss him there. "You're so helpless without your clothes on," he says in a playful tone.

I smile. "I am only helpless in your arms, Ike."

He gives me a peck on the lips. "Let's go to bed now," he murmurs, and I agree.


	4. Four: Falling Asleep

MistressofIke: Thanks. Let's just say that . . . Soren's bruise is a fairly important part of the story. But you didn't hear it from me.

randompersons: Oh, come on. I review your chapters when you update. And I've been able to recover some of my work, but I've got a ways to go.

I don't own Fire Emblem and all that jazz. This is a SorenXIke story. If you don't like it, don't read it. M for safety. Spoilers for those who haven't finished Radiant Dawn. Takes place several years after Ike left Tellius. Minor changes to the original storyline, but it's mostly the same. Also, a lot of this is fluff, but there is an actual plot to it, despite what you may think!

A Breath Away

Four: Falling Asleep

Remember how I said that Ike's kisses take me to the height of ecstasy? Well, that was a lie. Being in bed with him does. Kisses are pretty high up the list, though. Right behind foreplay.

I'm not going in to many details. It's a personal thing. I know that many men, especially Ike, would launch into every aspect of what they do in bed, if asked. But I'm not part of those men. I'm not even supposed to exist. So I don't suppose it matters.

I will say this: there is nothing I enjoy more then making love to Ike. He's very passionate, yet rough. He's not quite so rough as usual tonight—I'm injured, and he doesn't want to make matters worse then they are. But as I call his name, I can't ignore the fact that his arm keeps rubbing against my blemish, irritating it. Causing me pain.

But it's not my bruise that causes me the most pain. It's my performance. I can't help it. I just don't know how to make everything last longer. I give in so easily, so quickly, to Ike's desires. He finds ways to prolong what he does.

Maybe it's because he's so much better at it then I am. Maybe it's because he was raised with by his father. Having a father, or at least a father figure, is important for these kinds of things, I would imagine. At the very least to explain what happens to your body after a decade or so. As you can imagine, it was difficult to figure it all out for myself.

After I reached my peak, I stopped feeling the ecstasy. And I started feeling the regret.

I'd ruined sex for him. Again. I came too early. And when I did, I could tell the difference. There were pauses in his shouts when there shouldn't have been. There was hesitation in his movements when there was no need for it. His fingernails bit into my hands because he was so tense from my mistakes.

How could I have known that I'd be bad at this? I'd never done anything like this before I'd left Tellius with Ike. I had no idea what to expect. Almost no idea what to do. I never told Ike that, but I'm sure that even his simple mind could figure it out.

So now, as I lay beside him, my hand under my head, his arm wrapped around my torso, all I can do is hope he doesn't want to talk about it. Talking is bad. There's nothing I can do to change how poorly I do in bed with him. We've talked about it a few times, but I've avoided getting to the main problem. If he ever knew that I just couldn't do what he wants . . . I don't know what he'd do. But I can guarantee that the end result would not be favourable.

So laying her like this, with Ike huffing steamy air steadily against my skin, all I can do is cry silently. It's the same thing as always: we make love. I climax too early. He's disappointed. And then I weep until tiredness overtakes my body, knowing that I'd turned what would have been an amazing night into a hideous mess. Once again.

"Hey . . . ," a tired, coarse voice wonders, "Soren?"

Oh, Goddess. No, please no. I try to dry up my throat. "Yeah, Ike?"

"Um . . . ." I can tell he's absolutely stupid from exhaustion. All of his words are slurred. "Uh . . . Soren, was that all . . . good for you?"

Act ignorant. I swallow to prevent my voice from raising an octave in fear. "What do you mean?"

"I mean . . . did I . . . do anything wrong? Was it . . . bad?"

Here I was, crying myself to sleep, and he thought he hadn't done everything perfectly. He thought he wasn't somehow an expert. He thought he hadn't done everything right, better then good? Great? Fantastic? "No, Ike. Not at all. Don't be thinking you did anything wrong."

He's quiet for a minute. At first I think—I hope—that he's falling asleep. But now he's talking again, and I know that it was just wishful thinking. "Soren, are you sure? I mean . . . it didn't sound like you enjoyed it. If it's something I did . . . ."

My chest is unusually painful, and tight. My heart feels like there's a dagger stuck in it. "Yes. Of course I'm sure. How could I not be sure? You did excellent. You always do excellent. Don't go thinking that any bad part of sex was your fault. Because you don't. It's basically impossible for you. I mean, it just is. I mean, you're Ike. You're just . . . good. Not good. Great. Fantastic. Really."

He shifts a little. "Soren. Stop babbling. I'm tired."

Goddess, I was babbling, wasn't I? "Sorry."

His grip around my torso tightens. "So, I wasn't the cause for bad sex."

"No. Not at all."

"But you admit that there _was_ a cause for bad sex, and that there _was_ bad sex."

Once more, somebody claiming to be half as intelligent as I am has found the loophole in my logic. I sigh softly. He knew there was bad sex. I knew there was bad sex. He just didn't know the cause of it. I did. But I couldn't tell him. I couldn't be left alone in a strange land without him. I just couldn't. ". . . Yeah, Ike. There was."

"Mmm . . . So, why was there, Soren? Can you just tell me, so it doesn't happen again?"

I hesitate, thinking up a lie, and shortly I have one. Luckily, this one also has some truth in it. "It's just because . . . your arm . . . kept rubbing against my bruise, the entire time, it was—"

"Oh, Soren, I'm sorry!" he whispers. "I didn't realize. I won't do it again. I promise."

All I do is bury my head into my pillow a little more and mumble, "Okay."

He presses his face against my back. His nose pushes my hair against my skin, which tickles me a little bit. I can't hold back a smile. After a minute he says, "I'll make sure I never do it again. We won't have sex again until your bruise is gone. Alright?"

It would take a while, probably around two weeks, for the bruise to heal. And two weeks without making love to Ike would be hard to endure. But if it meant two weeks more with Ike, sex or no sex, then I was fine with it. "That sounds great."

"That's good." He kisses me again on my spine, and then falls quiet.

Ten minutes later I can hear him snoring. He's not going to be waking up for at least nine hours now. Once he's out, you can't wake him up with a bucket of cold water. Well, actually, you can. But it's about the only way, and after you douse him with the water, you've got to beat him over the head with the bucket and yell. Trust me. I've tried. Because for some reason, the enemy enjoyed attack the mercenary fort in the dead of night.

I'm free to cry again now. Good Goddess. Was I that bad tonight? Now we're not going to make love for another few weeks. And it's my fault. Because I give in too early. Because I'm not strong enough to hold out like him. Because I'm weak.

I realize that I don't need a voice inside my head to tell me that I'm the one to blame. I don't need a woman or and old sage screaming at me that I'm a freak. I don't need to have someone tell me that I mess everything up.

I just know.


	5. Five: Drifting Away

MistressofIke: Thanks. And luckily, Ike and Soren are going to have a chance to talk very soon.

randompersons: I'm writing as fast as I can! DX It's taking a while. I've been really busy recently. I was going to update this about 4 days ago, but I was too caught up in other things. So, sorry for the delay, but here it is at last.

I don't own Fire Emblem and all that jazz. This is a SorenXIke story. If you don't like it, don't read it. M for safety. Spoilers for those who haven't finished Radiant Dawn. Takes place several years after Ike left Tellius. Minor changes to the original storyline, but it's mostly the same. Also, a lot of this is fluff, but there is an actual plot to it, despite what you may think!

A Breath Away

Five: Drifting Away

I awaken first, like always. Ike is still snoring away, lost in his dreams. Not for the first time, I wonder what he's dreaming about. Me? Probably not. Probably his father. Maybe Mist. Maybe Elincia. More likely Elincia then me.

He was going to marry Elincia, originally. He'd asked her and she'd said yes and everything. But he couldn't follow through with it. He realized he'd never be able to cope with the pressures of being king. King Ike of Crimea. How does that sound? Sounds like eternal pain and regret for me.

So he left Tellius. She'd set a price on his head for leaving her, and he felt that his only option was to leave and never be heard from again. I managed to stop him from leaving long enough for me to convince him to take me, too. I tried to get him to come to Goldoa with me, but he refused. And this is the result.

I go to the washroom. We've got a fairly large bathtub and a small sink and a mirror. We don't want to live fancy out here. We don't have much money, anyways. So we keep everything simple.

I take a comb and start brushing out my long, tangled hair. It's a complete mess. He'd untied and un-braided it again. It's annoying, really, because he doesn't realize how much work it takes just to keep it from knotting and splitting. But he likes running his fingers through it. And if it makes him happy, I'll put up with it.

He doesn't realize how much work it takes to look decent, though. Once he asked me how I got my hair looking so nice all the time. All I could respond with was a glare.

It's so much later now that I've finished brushing out my hair. I slowly tie it back and braid it. After I do this, I turn and take a step back and gaze into the mirror. I can't help but gasp.

My bruise is large, and a mix of purples, blacks, and browns. I think I even see a little bit of oranges and reds and pinks. It's horrific. It takes up almost half my side. I wince as I touch it lightly. I can't believe how unattractive it is. I can't understand why he still made love to me with this . . . this growth.

I go back into the bedroom. He's still sound asleep, his one arm wrapped around a pillow, the other clutching the blanket to his chest. I sigh in disappointment. He's muscular, and tan. I'm flimsy and pale. And bruised hideously.

I find some fresh clothes and pull them on. Underleggings, undershirt, overshirt, robe, socks, boots. Belt, sashes. And now I leave my Ike, slumbering peacefully, and go into the kitchen.

I check the cupboards wearily. I see nothing. So I take a seat at our table and cross my arms, and rest my head. I close my eyes. Hunger isn't fun. I, of all people, know this. That's the very reason that I groan, my stomach rumbling quietly.

After a half hour, I can hear Ike waking up. He grumbles loudly and his yawns are almost yells. A few minutes after he awakens, he comes into the kitchen as well. He greets me with a happy, "Good morning, Soren."

All I say in response is, "We're out of food."

His voice becomes a little sadder. "Oh. I didn't know."

"Hmmf."

There's a pause, and then he's holding my hand in his. His thumb traces over some swollen red marks running from my fingers to the back of my hand. "Soren . . . ." he whispers, "did you do this to yourself?"

I open my eyes lazily and raise my head. "No," I answer. "You did. Last night. You were all . . . tense."

His blue eyes flash with momentary pain. "I did? I . . . I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I did this to you. I didn't realize—"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. It was an accident. You'll never do it again."

He winces at the familiar words. He strokes the back of my hand gently and kisses my head. "Well, it's true," he replies after a moment. "It _was_ an accident."

The fake smile I put on is pathetic. But it fools Ike into thinking I'm fine. In reality, pain rakes my entire body constantly. The pain emanates from the bruise on my side. I don't know why it hurts so much. I don't know.

I need to know.

I stand up unenthusiastically and head towards the door. But before I can leave, an immense hand stops me. "Where do you think you're going?" Ike's deep voice rumbles in question.

I try to shrug, but the motion is impossible with his fingers curled around my shoulder. "Library." Like it's the most casual thing in the world.

"I don't think so." I think an expression of horror crosses my face at his words, because suddenly, Ike is laughing. "Soren, you can't go to the library first thing in the morning. Not on an empty stomach."

I groan. "Ike, please . . . ."

"Don't make me carry you again," he threatens. "C'mon. We can go to the tavern. They should be serving breakfast about now."

"Ike . . . ."

He wraps an arm around my waist, which makes me blush madly. "You're going to eat some food. So stop arguing."

He forces me out the door with him. I don't bother to struggle. He'd win, no matter what.

Within a few minutes, we're in the small village. Another few minutes following that, we're in a small tavern, eating breakfast. Ike has a plateful of pancakes and sausages and eggs and a lot of other foods you'd never imagine anybody could eat all in one sitting. I've got some buttered bread and an orange.

"You need some meat with that, Soren?" he asks humorously, knowing that I don't support people stuffing themselves full of protein first thing in the morning. Carbohydrates are much more important to get you mind working.

"I'm good." I go back to nibbling on my bread.

He gazes at me for a few seconds, then returns to his food. It's quite some time before we finish our meal; Ike having so much to eat, and I, eating so slowly. It's always done like that. Ike gets upset when I'm just sitting there waiting for him to finish. So I make sure that it never happens.

Ike swallows his last piece of sausage and stands up. Likewise, I finish off my orange and follow in suit.

He takes my hand and pulls me outside. I follow him, slightly confused. "Ike, I've eaten now. I would like to go to the library now."

He's smiling stupidly as he shakes his head. "Not today."

"What!" I protest. "No! Ike, please, I want to go to the library . . . I have to go to the library. Ike, please."

We're in an alley. It seems a little more private here. Ike pulls me aside and crouches down, so we're face-to-face. "Soren, just listen, okay?"

"I . . . I'm listening . . . ."

He brushes some hair out of my face with his fingertips. "Soren, you always go to the library. Every day. And I'm stuck doing nothing all day long by myself."

What! "You don't have to do nothing, you know. You could get a hobby. You could learn how to cook. Or sew. Or write poetry. Or you could even just stay in bed all day and mastur—"

"Soren, I'm not going to pleasure myself all day while you're cooped up with your books. And it doesn't matter what I do, because no matter what, I'm not doing it with you."

I want to argue this, but I can't. It's true. Eventually, my voice dry, I say, "But . . . at night . . . we . . . ."

"That's not what I mean, Soren. I mean, we never talk any more. What kind of books are you reading? Do you like them? I don't know anything about you anymore. We used to be so close. And you're drifting away from me. Why can't we just spend some time together? Why do you have to go to the library?"

I suddenly realize how much closer he is to me, how his lips are almost on my neck, how they inch closer, how the press lightly against my flesh . . . how they . . . they move up my neck . . . and . . . and . . . . "I g-guess I d-don't have t-to g-go . . . ."

He laughs lightly against my skin, and I can feel it as he says, "That's good. I miss you, Soren."

Now his lips are on my chin . . . on my cheek . . . on my own lips . . . . Oh, Goddess . . . his tongue . . . !

And then he pulls away, leaving me whimpering for more. "Ike . . . I . . . I love you so much. So much . . . ."

"I love you too, Soren."


	6. Six: Branded

To Everyone: OMFG! I'm so, so sorry this has taken so long for an update. I hope you're still reading this. DX I blame such tardiness on a mixture of school/exams, and writer's block. Please accept my deepest apologies. And please don't give up on this story! I want to finish it! I really do. So please stick around.

To "The Regulars"(MistressofIke, randompersons): Soren's personality is hard to work with. It's difficult to write a story about him where he's being nice. However, I think we're making progress. Hopefully he'll be a little easier to be around as the stores goes on, so I guess we'll just have to wait and see. Also, Elincia is a key element in this story, as you may or may not find out later. *insert evil laugh*

To "The Newcomers"(Concise Complexity, PPP SSC, Nanimi): This is one of my favourite pairings as well, even though they are, admittedly, a bit of a mess. ^_^ Again, it's mostly Soren's fault. And yes, I do realize that it was a very creul and OOC thing of Ike to do when he made Soren spar with him, but it plays an important role in this (rather dark) story, and I tried to integrate it in as best as I could. I'm sure it didn't come out quite right, but that's to be expected, given the nature of the situation. Thanks for all the praise, critique, and mostly support!

I don't own Fire Emblem and all that jazz. This is a SorenXIke story. If you don't like it, don't read it. M for safety. Spoilers for those who haven't finished Radiant Dawn. Takes place several years after Ike left Tellius. Minor changes to the original storyline, but it's mostly the same. Also, a lot of this is fluff, but there is an actual plot to it, despite what you may think!

And now, onto the long-awaited update!

A Breath Away

Six: Branded

I've caught his interest. I can tell, because he's actually asking me questions. "Really? What's that like?"

I frown a little as I try to remember. "I don't recall all of it, but I think it was mostly accurate. Oh, only it said that Greil killed himself, after he killed his wife. I remember that bit."

He chuckles a little, finding false amusement in the grim topic. "Well, I'm pretty sure that never happened. I was there when he died. The Bla—Zelgius was responsible for my father's death."

"I know, Ike. I know." I say this comfortingly. Even now, even almost ten years after Greil's death, it's still a little bit of a sore subject for Ike. He was so close to his father. It was a bond I could never experience, my father being dead before I even knew we were related.

I rub his knee in solace as he sighs and asks, "Anything else? Or was the rest of it right?"

We're talking about a book I read a while ago. It was called, "The Greatest Heroes of Tellius". I don't know how a book about another continent ended up in a small-town library, but it did, and Ike was in it. Right now I'm resting between his legs, my back against his chest, telling him about it. He's massaging my shoulders with his hands soothingly.

I sigh in content. "Well, I don't know. There was something about Mist being your first love interest—" this gets me an enthusiastic laugh, "—and you fighting Geoffrey to the death for Elincia's hand in marriage. Other then that, I think it was correct."

"Oh." He pauses. "I think, if I'd followed through with it, I might've had to fight Geoffrey to the death. I think he loved her, too."

I lean my head back into his chest and stare up into his blue eyes. Slowly I say, "You miss her, don't you?"

He shook his head. "No, I don't miss her. I have you."

But I can see the emotions crossing his face, the minor pain, the regret, the sorrow that ran through his blue eyes like a river. "That's a lie. You miss her and you know it. I know you better then that, Ike. You can't just let go of someone on a whim."

He closes his eyes. "It's been almost six years since I last saw her, Soren. Don't you think it's time I move on? Don't you think it shouldn't matter anymore?"

My tone is a little sharper then I intend it to be. "And exactly who are you trying to convince, Ike? Me? You? Her?"

His hands tense up on my shoulders. "I'm not trying to convince anyone. I'm just saying—it shouldn't matter anymore. I'm never going to see her again."

He still loves her, so much; I can't help but feel a pang of jealously. "True. You never are. But that doesn't mean you're just going to forget about her, does it? Just because Ranulf isn't here doesn't mean you can't care for him. Just because Mist isn't here doesn't mean you can't care for her. Trust me. It's an arduous task to not think about everybody we left behind. You're not the only one who left his friends and family to run off with some other man. I'm in this too, you know."

"I know." His voice is barely a whisper. He coughs in embarrassment as he adds quietly, "And, um . . . what does, um, 'ardus' mean?"

"Arduous? Hard. Difficult."

"Oh."

We fall silent for a minute. Eventually, Ike asks quietly, "What family did you leave? I thought you didn't know who your real parents were."

Damn. How am I supposed to get out of this one? "Uh, well . . . I sort of do. Well, not really. I mean, I wasn't, um, told, or anything . . . ."

"But you have a guess?"

"You could call it that." Please don't make me tell you. I don't want to tell you. Not yet. Not yet. Please. Not yet.

"How come you never told me?"

No! No, no, no! "Um, well . . . I, uh . . . ."

"Soren?" His voice is growing slightly angrier. "Why didn't you ever tell me who your parents are? Don't you trust me?"

"No. I mean, yes, of course I do. It's not that I don't trust you. Of course I trust you. I'd trust you with my life. I _have_ trusted you with my life."

"You're babbling again."

I want to scream in frustration. I bury my face in my hands and moan.

"Soren, it's okay." His strong arms wrap themselves around my chest, and his nose rubs against my nape. "I just want to know. Is it that big a deal?" When he realizes he's not getting an answer, he continues. "Do you think I'll judge you based on who your parents are? Is it someone I know? Because even if it is, I'm not going to leave you."

He's just so oblivious. I can't stop a few tears from coming to my eyes. I sniff them back wearily.

"Hey," he says softly, "hey. Don't cry, Soren. I'm sorry. I just don't see why you can't tell me."

I lift my head slowly and rub my eyes. He kisses me gently on the shoulder as I say, "That's what . . . what I was finding out when you came into that town at night . . . . That's why Kurth was there."

"Kurth . . . is . . . related to you?"

I nod. "He's my uncle. His sister, Almedha, is my real mother. I'm part of the dragon laguz royal family, strictly speaking. He was telling me about it when I recognized you."

"Almedha? But . . . isn't she . . . wasn't she . . . married to . . . ?"

"Ashnard? Sort of. She was his mistress."

"She's a dragon laguz. And he was a beorc. And you're a mix of both."

He's piecing it together, slowly, in his mind. "Ashnard and Almedha produced a child together. However, Ashnard was very upset to find out that his son was more like a beorc then a laguz, and that he had no special powers. That his son was only to be known as part dragon laguz by his bright red eyes and the mark on his forehead . . . the Brand. Not only that, but he was also furious upon finding that Almedha had lost her powers during the birthing."

"And so, Almedha gave her son away, to keep him safe from Ashnard's wrath?"

I bit my lower lip a little. "Something like that."

"And then Pelleas . . . ?"

I placed my hand overtop of his and stroke it lightly with the tips of my fingers. "Almedha found Pelleas one day, and, seeing a mark upon his forehead, thought he was her son. But it wasn't actually. It was actually the mark of a spirit charmer, as I overheard him reveal to her only recently."

His fingers curl around my hand. "Soren. I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"You have noting to be sorry for," I mutter. "You didn't abandon your child."

"I'm sorry I pressured you into telling me. I can understand why you wouldn't want to talk about it. I shouldn't have made you."

I shrug. "I had to tell you someday. I just . . . I just wasn't sure when."

"Now was good."

I smile at his simplicity, one of the many great things about him. "I'll keep that in mind for next time."

He grips my hand, but not painfully. It's an affectionate squeeze as he murmurs, "I love you, no matter who your parents are. Even if Zelgius was your father, I wouldn't have cared. I would still love you. The blood you carry doesn't affect who you really are. Just remember that, okay?"

"I know, Ike. I know." I relax against his body, only just realizing how stressed I had been. I sigh in content, finally feeling freedom sweep over my body. And it feels good. I can't help but grin like and idiot at the thought of always having him, no matter what I do. Sometimes I doubt myself, but really there's nothing to doubt—he will always be there for me. Always.


	7. Seven: Musing About Matrimony

randompersons: olo, I didn't intend it to seem like that. He was just a little upset, because he always wanted to be raised with love, but found out that he wouldn't have, even if he'd been raised by his very own parents.

Nanami: Glad you enjoyed it. I have a feeling you're going to enjoy this chapter, too.

Concise Complexity: Good to know I can amuse you. I think we all hate Elincia, deep down inside. She reminds me of a pumpkin(in that she's orange and green, and also looks like she'd be perfect to jump on/throw/kick). On another note, you may not like certain turns this story will take. *coughelinciapovlateroncough* But then again, maybe you can just hop on and enjoy the ride, regardless. Meh. It's up to you.

Black Mage Hiyasha: Thanks! Always great to know I'm doing _something_ right.

Okay, here's the next chapter. Erm, it's been a while since I've played either of the Tellius games, so if Ike and/or Soren seem a little OOC . . . well, then that's the reason. I'd also like to remind people that the second genre of this story was chosen as "Angst" for a reason--expect it. Not so much in this chapter, but in general.

This might have come a bit sooner, but I had some other things that unfortunately took priority over this story(Not to mention, I am still recovering from a very serious case of Writer's Block). As I'm still working on those some things(which happen to include the developement of other stories for ya'll to read), updates will take about as long as this one took, with some obvious variation. With that in mind, here you go!

I don't own Fire Emblem and all that jazz. This is a SorenXIke story. If you don't like it, don't read it. M for safety. Spoilers for those who haven't finished Radiant Dawn. Takes place several years after Ike left Tellius. Minor changes to the original storyline, but it's mostly the same. Also, a lot of this is fluff, but there is an actual plot to it, despite what you may think!

A Breath Away

Seven: Musing About Matrimony

Nothing too terribly significant occurred until about now. It's been seven days since I told him who my parents were. Every other day I've been in the library. Every day besides those, I spent all my time with Ike.

Today is one of those days. Only I apparently have "no people skills" and therefore must "learn how to socialize" and "don't critique everyone you lay eyes upon, damn it". So, unfortunately, today is not a "Spend Time in the Gentle Embrace of Your Lover" type of day. Instead, Ike decided it was going to be a "Let's Parade Soren Through Town and Try to Make Friends with Everybody" type of day. I recently found out that it was a world-wide holiday celebrated once a year, every year.

Lucky me.

So here I am in the middle of the market, with Ike holding my hand—you can imagine the expression on my face, I'm sure—and he's keeping me close by his side.

"Ike," I hiss under my breath, "everyone is staring at us." Which is true—approximately eighty pairs of eyes are focussed on our small-scale promenade through the busy streets. A portion of them are merely curious glances, but most of them are ferocious glares that mean only one thing: Ike and I are in the wrong.

Ike looks around, as if noticing for the first time. He gives a small smile. "So?" he asks pointlessly. "Why should it matter? Soren, you need to learn to ignore silly things like that. It doesn't make a difference if a thousand people are staring at us, or none at all. The whole point of us walking through this market," he continues, gesturing at the stalls and shops surrounding us, "was not to buy a rug or a new set of spoons. It was that so you could spend some time with people, remember?"

I grumble to myself. Just because I'd agreed to it didn't mean I wanted to do it. "You know, Ike, in case you haven't noticed, you're a person, too."

A grin stretches across his face. I can barely hear him chuckle. "Soren, we've been over this," he sighs. "I'm just one person. What if somebody here is destined to become your best friend, but it never happens because you're too stubborn to meet new people?"

For the longest time, I don't know what to say. We silently walk down the road. There are less and less people, and it becomes quieter and quieter. The clouds thicken, and it becomes noticeably darker. Ike stares up at the looming clouds above him. "Looks like a storm'll be coming in soon. Maybe we should think about heading home."

I shoot him a glare. He smiles when he sees it, but after quickly looking at his surroundings, he frowns. "Um, I think I'm lost," he says, embarrassed.

I sigh. "This is just so typical. Great. Fantastic. Now we're totally lost, and there's a storm, and everyone in this damn town hates us." As is to emphasize my point, rain began to fall—lightly at first, but in a matter of minutes it turned into a complete downpour. Ike and I are hiding inside a small store, specializing in the sale of ceremonial clothes.

I gaze out at the weather, listening to the pounding drizzle. The last few people still outside hurry to their homes. Everything is lit up for a second. A moment later, the deep roar of thunder rumbles through the sky.

"Hey, Soren, what do you think?" Ike asks me cheerfully.

"About what?" I wonder aloud, and turn to face him. At first, all I can see is the dumb grin on his face, and then I notice what he's holding. I scowl. Yes, scowl. "That's not funny, Ike."

"Aw, Soren, have a sense of humour." He walks up to me and holds a wedding dress against my body. "It fits!" he declares ecstatically. His brilliant blue eyes shine with pride.

I think I may have growled. I swipe at him, but he backs away, laughing. Thankfully, he pulls the garish, lacy white _thing_ with him. I muster up the most evil glare I can. He smiles still and says, "I think it would look good on you."

"I don't care," I snarl. "I am not a woman, and therefore do not belong in a dress." I turn away from him in anger. His foolishness is that and nothing more—foolishness.

The shopkeeper, previously watching our little display in silence, piped up. "Hey, I don't mind if you play around with the clothes or try them on. But if you so much as pull a button off, I'm afraid I'm going to have to charge you for it."

Ike simply replies, "I understand." From the noises he makes, I assume he put the dress back where he found it. Then he wraps on arm around my midriff. I wince, but either he doesn't notice, or he just ignores it. He rests his chin lightly on my shoulder and whispers, almost sadly, "I think people in wedding dresses are beautiful."

"You're not convincing me." I think over his words for a second. I ask incredulously, "Are you saying that I'm not beautiful because I'm not wearing a wedding dress?"

Forever prepared for any question, he simply answers, "Yes. Maybe you should put one on, and then you'll be beautiful."

"Scoff, scoff," I retort. "Scoff. Hmm, maybe I should get some scoff medicine."

He laughs lightly. We sit quietly, listening to the constant rain and the sporadic thunder. After a long while, Ike finally murmurs, "So, um, what do you think about it?"

"About what?"

His hold on me strengthens. Not by a lot, but by enough for me to realize that he's nervous about something. He hesitates, and soon replies, "About . . . us. Getting married, that is."

Married?

To Ike?

Like a dream come true.

_Or maybe a nightmare?_

No. Spending the rest of my life with him isn't a bad thing.

_. . . Or maybe it is? _

But . . . .

"Soren?"

"Huh?"

"If you don't want to . . . I understand."

I blink. I turn so I can face him. I catch a glimpse of a hurt expression, but it disappears underneath a stony mask. His deep blue eyes give away nothing. "Ike," I mumble, "it's not that I don't want to marry you. It's just . . . ."

He smiles, and brings a hand to my face. "It's fine, Soren," he assures me. "You're the deciding factor here. If you think that we're not ready to get married, for whatever reason, then you're right. I trust your judgement. Besides," he adds, pulling me into a hug, "we don't need to get married in order for us to be in love. I love you anyways. You know that, don't you?"

I nod. I smile. "I love you, too, Ike. And . . . " I hesitate. Am I really thinking what I think I'm thinking? How much am I willing to sacrifice for him? _How much pain do you want to be in, in order to make him happy?_ I would die for Ike. I know that. But I'm not going to die, anyways, so, ". . . I think we should get married."

"Really?" He seems almost breathless, as if what I said was really amazing, or stupefying, or . . . breathtaking. Or whatever. I don't know. Maybe it was. "Soren, I . . . that's . . . when, do you think, should we have the wedding? And where should it be?"

"And what should you wear?" The shopkeeper wonders loudly. "Oh, wait! I have the answer to that! You can browse from my fine selection of elegant attire! I have a wide variety of styles in many colours and sizes!"

Me and Ike laugh, just a little. After that interruption chipped the ice for me, I answered Ike's questions. "We're not going to get married right away. We're going to wait some time, still. And I don't think we should get married here."

The obvious question. "So, then, where?"

The not-so-obvious answer. "I'm thinking of a small, fort-like structure. It's nothing to fancy, but it's big enough, and it's in a place called Crimea."

Ike is completely dumbfounded. It wasn't the answer he was expecting at all. Subsequent to a long period of silence, he finally says, "You mean the mercenary fort."

"I find it fitting, yes."

He stares me right in the eye and says seriously, "Do you think we could even go back into Crimea? I think Elincia might hang me if she found out."

I shrug. "There's only one way to find out."


	8. Eight: Pleasure and Pain

randompersons: Thanks for everything. I appreciate having an unwavering fan.

Scarlaluna: I'm glad I amuse you. I hope you find the rest of the story as enjoyable.

The next update for this story, most unfortunately, isn't going to be here until late August/early September, because I'm busy moving with working on the house, mosing/organizing everything, repainting, etc, not to mention I'll be on vacation and without internet access next week. :( So try to be patient while I work everything out, alright?

I don't own Fire Emblem and all that jazz. This is a SorenXIke story, with sides of IkeXElincia, GeoffreyXElincia, . If you don't like it, don't read it. M for safety. Spoilers for those who haven't finished Radiant Dawn. Takes place several years after Ike left Tellius. Minor changes to the original storyline, but it's mostly the same. Also, a lot of this is fluff, but there is an actual plot to it, despite what you may think!

A Breath Away

Eight: Pleasure and Pain

I'm Ike's fiancé now. We're going to get married. We're going to be together for the rest of our lives. Or his life. If Stefan is an honest man, then I'm going to be around for some time after Ike dies. I think I can deal with that, though. I'm not sure how, but I am sure I will find a way.

We're back at home, now. The storm ended an hour ago, and we managed to find our way back. After making some tea and drinking it, the two of us had settled into a comfortable position on the sofa. He'd untied my hair again, but this time, I truly do not care. My hair could be on fire and I would not care. Right now, being here with him . . . nothing can distract me from it. I close my eyes and whisper, "This is . . . perfect. I love you so much."

Ike smiles. He strokes me lightly. "I'm glad you're happy, Soren. And I love you, too." The next few minutes are blissful silence. Then, "Soren, I don't want to break my promise to you, but, with your permission, do you think we could have sex now? I mean, since we're engaged now, it seems appropriate to celebrate . . . don't you agree?"

I raise my head—it had previously been resting on his chest—so I can look him in the eye. I arch a single eyebrow.

Ike laughs. "Is that a 'yes', my love?" His hand, formerly on my back, slid down to my tender side. "What about your injury?" he inquired. "Won't that lessen the pleasure and increase the pain?"

I respond with a playful grin and say, "I don't think that really matters. I don't think it'll make a difference tonight. I don't think you need to worry about it."

"Well, you sure don't think a lot. But you are my cute little tactician, after all. If you say it won't affect our performance, then I trust your intuition."

My smile widens. "The cute little tactician would like to advise the brave, handsome mercenary that he will not be slowed down by his wounds, and that the battle plan is to charge straight in, sword drawn, and plunge into the fires of passion with as much love as possible."

"Sounds like a plan," Ike murmurs huskily. I sit up as he does, and then he pulls me into his arms as he rises from the sofa. He carries me—embarrassingly enough, bridal-style—into the bedroom. He lays me down onto the bed, and quickly blows out the candles. He proceeds to pull his shirt off, revealing his amazing body, scarred though it may be.

I'm Ike's fiancé now. And tonight, we're going to celebrate that fact.

As Ike gets everything prepared for the night, I begin to pull off my own clothes. Rather quickly, I have nothing, save for my underpants, to protect me from the chill of the night. I attempt to pull my last remaining garment of clothing off, but I'm prevented from doing so when Ike grabs me. He pins my arms to the bed, and crawls on top of me. He kisses me deeply, ardently, for the longest time. I do believe I stop breathing for a while. I can tell already that this will be the best night of my life, and it's just getting started.

The kiss eventually breaks. The two of us are panting heavily. I can feel the tips of Ike's fingers as his hand makes its way down my chest, across my stomach, and then gently caresses my hips. It's all very sensual. He whispers seductively in my ear, "This is the only promise I'll ever break. But don't worry, I'll break it well."

I smile. "That's great to hear." I'm Ike's fiancé now, you know. Did I mention that?

He kisses my ear as he pulls my last shred of my clothing off and carelessly tosses it to the floor. As his kisses travel from my ear to my chin to my neck, I undo his belt and make sure his pants have been discarded. As Ike's mouth reaches my pectoral muscles, I remove the last scrap of clothing left—Ike's bandana. And with that, we can really get started.

Pleasure.

Passion took over my mind. I didn't worry. I wasn't able to. I wasn't scared, or nervous, or anything. All I felt was love. Pure adoration for the man I was with. As the night wore on, every nerve in my body prickled with ardour. The sheets are drenched with sweat and tangled up hopelessly, as are Ike and I. Everything is a total mess, and we are both exhausted, exhilarated. Or, at the very least, I am. Ike, apparently, has other plans.

"Soren," he says softly, "do you think . . . maybe . . . we could do one more last . . . ?"

I roll over so I can sit up. I look into Ike's blue eyes, which are shining with raw emotion. I hesitate, but then I murmur, "What exactly did you have in mind?"

He just smiles.

One more last round. Even though I'm completely worn out, it's worth it. The feeling I'm getting, I can't even describe it. It's so amazing and we're not even done yet. I can't help but let several moans escape from my lips. "Ahh . . . Ike . . . ."

He grunts in response, his tiredness catching up with him, I'm sure.

But that doesn't make a difference.

"Oh . . . ! Ike . . . !"

"Ah . . . S-Soren . . . ."

My grip on the sheets tightens tenfold as we climb higher and higher up the mountain of ecstasy.

his grip on my wrists tights as well, but this I barely notice.

Gratification soon overcomes me.

"Ike!" I cry out as I climax.

I can feel him climaxing moments later inside of me. "A-ah! . . . E-Elincia!"

And now it's over.

Ike flops back onto the bed, his breathing heavy. His eyes are closed, so he doesn't see the expression on my face. I'm not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing. All I know is the feeling I'm experiencing.

Pain.

Actually, it's barely a feeling at all. It's mostly just . . . nothing. But it's an all-too familiar emptiness. The problem is . . . I've never felt like this around Ike before, ever. Because Ike always made me feel good.

He mumbles, "Are you going to lay down beside me, or just sit there?"

I stand up with my back to him so he won't see me cry. Trying to control the tremor of my voice, I respond, "There's j-just something that I have t-to do."

"Alright."

I quickly pull on my clothes and rush out of our bedroom. Anger swells inside of me as I remember our first time together, in that way, and the things he'd said:

"_I've never—Ike, this is my first time." Blood rushed to my cheeks after I admitted this, but it was uncalled for. Ike would have expected that. And he did._

"_I thought so," he answered with a grin. His kissed my lightly, and I whimpered. He laughed. "It's alright, Soren. I know what I'm doing."_

"_You do?" I'd always assumed Ike was a virgin. He wasn't one to have one-night stands, so when . . . ? And who . . . ?_

_He seemed to read my mind. "Um, well . . . yeah, I suppose. Elincia and I were together for some time during the Mad King's War—just a little while. And we didn't really do all the much. But then after the last war, we got back together, sort of . . . . Anyways, just a while ago we . . . well . . . you know. That was the night I asked her to marry me, and that was also the night I left her."_

"_Oh. Right."_

"_It doesn't matter any more, of course. I don't care anymore."_

_His expression betrayed his words. The look in his eyes told me that it did matter. That he did care. That he didn't love me this way, the way he loved her. And I knew couldn't hurt him by making him be with me, when he really loved her. I couldn't force him to do that. "Ike, you know, if you don't want to do this, you don't have to."_

_Ike pulls me towards his chest. "But I want to make you happy, Soren. And if this is what I need to do in order to make you happy, well, then, I'm happy, too."_

"_Really?"_

"_Really."_

Happy!? Does Ike think that I'm happy!? I don't feel any emotions even remotely related to happiness. And Ike? Well, I suppose he's sure just jolly! Why not? I promised him I'd take him right back to Crimea! Right back to _her_! How much more happy could he get about that?

I seized the nearest anything and threw it blindly. It smashed loudly against the wall. I opened my eyes to see tea and porcelain strewn everywhere, all that remained of our teapot.

I cry. I don't want to be mad at Ike. I want to just be happy, and just love him. I only want him to love me back. That's all I'm asking him to do. But he can't even do it. Why is that? Oh, right. That's because he's still in love with his lovely little dear queen.

I feel just so useless, so weak, so miserable. I feel like there's just no point in being alive unless Ike's there to hold me. I feel . . . the same way I did after the Sage died, the one that took care of me.

Pleasure.

Pain.

You can't have one without the other. And something tells me that I've used up my entire supply in the first category.

I'm Ike's fiancé now. But that doesn't matter. Apparently it's in his nature to get become engaged with someone, so he can use them for all their worth, and then just stop caring. I should have been expecting this. I was caught off guard, unprepared.

But I'm prepared now.


End file.
